At Least They Didn't Kiss
by Ebony Foxfire
Summary: Um, here's a very "unique" fic about Peeves and Moaning Myrtle. I think it was the Ibuprofen. I apologize before hand. :o) Have fun!!


A/N - I'd like to thank my dear friend Jet (known as Azrael Pyrstria on this site) for the idea for this fic. He has great ideas, but is too lazy to actually write them, but THAT's OKAY, we fogive him. Anyway, this fic is really weird, and somewhat fluffy, though not NEARLY as fluff as "In the Center of The Trophy Room". My only warning for this fic is that it quite, um, strange. Yeah, that's the word I was looking for. Okay, I'll stop talking now. Enjoy!  
  
Oh yes, one more thing. Disclaimer: all of this belongs to the fabulous J.K. Rowling, except the ghost band, which, by the way, is called 'Rap Music'. Hint hint.  
  
  
Harry, Ron and Hermione bustled down the stairs into the dungeons of Hogwarts, cutting an outlandish spectacle decked in their best dress-robes. Each carried a beautifully wrapped package containing a gift that would probably go unappreciated by the recipients. Nevertheless the members of the trio were all in high spirits as they descended down the murky stairwell.  
  
"What do you think it will be like?" asked Hermione, looking quite fetching in robes of forest green. "I do hope there will be actual food there this time . . . not like Nearly-Headless Nick's deathday." A shadow passed over her face as she recalled the "refreshment" that had been served at the anniversary of their ghost friend's death.  
  
"Well, we aren't going to be the only humans there this time," Ron replied, trying unsuccessfully to smooth the wrinkles out of his new (!) black dress robe. "I mean, Dumbledore'll be there and so will a few of the other professors. Maybe they've taken that into account."  
  
"I, for one, can't believe that this is even happening!" said Harry fervently. 'I mean, I thought they hated each other! Remember last year when he kept making fun f her and throwing things?"  
  
"Maybe that's just ghost-flirting," Hermione stated impatiently. "C'mon you two, we're going to be late!"  
  
They continued down the slime-encrusted staircase, careful not to touch the eerily glowing walls until finally they arrived at a huge set of wooden doors, almost rotted through. Harry bravely stuck out his hand to grasp one of the slippery rings. It was hard to imagine that the handles had once been gold, as they were now a splotchy mass of slippery moss and rust, gray-green in color. Harry grimaced and pulled on the handle, and the heavy door swung open as if it weighed no more than a feather. He and his friends were met by a blast of cold air and shrill singing as they stepped into the dimly lit room beyond.  
  
There were candles everywhere, but it seemed as though a spell had been cast to mute their glow. A skinny ghost-girl shrieked in time to a quintet of other phantom people who were rattling chains and clacking bones together. Dead flowers that perhaps had been white when they were alive had been strung everywhere, and were emitting a strange and unique odor; perhaps the essence of lilac and pickled toad. All around the three humans there were translucent coupled dancing and twirling with smiles on their thin, pale faces as their robes swirled out behind them. Professor Binns was talking quietly to the Grey Lady in a secluded corner, and Professor Snape seemed to be plotting something as he and the Bloody Baron exchanged furtive glances. There was an extensive banquet set up for the ghosts, made of rotted carcasses and carrion, with immensely strong wine in large kegs off to the side. Near that table (much to Harry, Ron, and Hermione's relief) was a smaller stand of food for the humans, with expensive looking vegetable trays, desserts, and a main course of filet mignon. The three friends were about to set upon the food when a mournful voice caught their attention.  
  
"Harry!" a ghost with large, sad eyes floated over a somber smile stretched over her face. Moaning Myrtle was decked in stained old robes of white with a tattered veil set askew upon her hastily combed hair. Her lucent face was made a bit more colorful my gobs of makeup, bright red on her thin lips and a brilliant turquoise for her eyelids. Myrtle attempted to hug each of them, but succeeded only in passing through them, leaving traces of her lipstick on their clothing. This left the stooped figure undaunted, however.  
  
"So happy you all could come," she continued sadly. "I didn't think you'd come. Only a fraction of the guest list came." The smile fell from her painted lips. "They didn't want to seem me happy. No one wants to see me happy, that's why so few people came. This is my wedding day, and no one wants to see me happy." Silver tears started to stream down her cheeks, leaving tracks of blue down her face. "Why did you come? You don't really like me. No one does." Myrtle was sobbing now, and Harry exchanged a glance with Ron and Hermione as he clumsily handed Myrtle a handkerchief.  
  
"There, there Myrtle," Hermione said awkwardly as she attempted to pat the ghost's back and simply passed through it. "We all want to see you happy. That's why we came. This is your special day, and you did have quite a turnout. Don't worry, everything will be fine."  
  
Myrtle passed the dripping cloth back to Harry, who took it with an uncertain look. "You're right. I should be happy." She gave another weak smile and started to float off, calling back sorrowfully, "I'm off to mingle now. Enjoy the party."  
  
Ron grabbed a carrot stick and chewed it thoughtfully. "You'd think a girl'd be happy to be getting married. She did say yes of her own accord."  
  
Hermione joined him at the refreshment table and picked up a tiny quiche. "Well, poor Myrtle never does seem to be very upbeat, does she? What can you expect?"  
  
Unexpectedly, the band stopped playing. The singer looked around and then nodded to her band. They struck up a tune that sounded suspiciously like the wedding march, and everyone, ghost and human, cleared the aisle as a ghost with a pope's hat stood up at the alter a the far end of the room.  
  
Suddenly a raucous cackling filled the room as the groom bounced down the aisle, upturning the human refreshment table and kicking some of his guests. Harry and Ron exchanged a glance. Well, one could never expect that Peeves would be predictable or chivalrous, even on his wedding day.  
  
Peeves skidded to a halt at the alter and snatched the ghost's hat off with a deft swipe of his thieves fingers. He positioned the cap on his head at a rakish angle and waited, impatiently tapping his foot for his bride-to-be.  
  
At that moment, Myrtle came floating down the aisle, looking somber as always. However, when she saw Peeves with the hat on his head blow her a wet looking kiss, she doubled up with giggles. Tucking her bouquet of weeds under her arm and hitching up her skirt, she ran-floated over to where her future husband was standing and leapt into his arms, where he caught her neatly.   
  
"Say it, pops," Peeves cackled at the minister and then blew him a raspberry. "Or I'll chuck the girl at yeh."  
  
The aged-looking ghost looked simply weary, not surprised, and croaked out a rhyme.  
  
"A ghost an' his bride are very nice  
They fill the afterlife with some spice  
So cut the cake with a dull ol' knife  
Peeves and Myrtle are ghost an' wife!"  
  
"He he!" Peeves tucked the furiously giggling Myrtle under one arm, and whipped a fearsome scimitar out of his robes. Screaming "Cut the cake! Cut the cake!" he moved the weapon with fearsome speed to slice a nearby cake neatly in half. He dropped Myrtle suddenly, who landed an inch above the floor still giggling, and sped over to the cake. He grabbed a fistful and launched it a Headmaster Dumbledore, where it connected with his face with a resounding splat. The room fell silent, as Dumbledore removed his spectacles and licked hem clean.  
  
"Delicious, " he said finally.   
  
"Food fight!" Screamed Peeves as he shot another lump of cake at Harry, who responded with a round of fallen mini quiches. Soon everyone was shouting, laughing, and throwing a wide variety of edible (or not) substances at one another.  
  
Myrtle floated by Harry, who was dodging a sequence of vegetables being thrown at him by Ron and Hermione, and called over the ruckus, "Some, party!"  
  
***  
  
Past midnight, a victual-spattered Hermione, Ron, and Harry trudged wearily up the spiraling staircase to the Gryffindor common room.   
  
"Well," started Hermione. "That was weird."  
  
"Yeah," agreed a weary Ron. "Really weird."  
  
"Well," responded Harry, looking from one friend to the other. "At least they didn't kiss."   
  
There was a silent wave of agreement passed between the friends, and they continued the ascent away from the chaotic depths of Hogwarts.   
  
  
A/N - Please Review!! 


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